The Marriage Agreement. Renee Ryan

deadening sensation filled his lungs.

      Jonathon knew who stood behind him.

      His father. He felt the man’s presence in his gut, in the kick of antagonism that hit Jonathon square in the heart.

      His grip on Fanny’s hand tightened. He was probably squeezing a bit too hard. He couldn’t help himself. She was his only lifeline in a sea of uncertain emotion.

      Let her go, he told himself. Let. Her. Go.

      He couldn’t make his fingers cooperate, couldn’t seem to distance himself from her.

      Let her go.

      Fanny was the one who pulled her hand free. The absence of their physical connection was like a punch, the pain that sharp and unexpected.

      Instead of stepping away, she moved closer and secured her fingers around his arm. Her eyes filled with understanding and something even more disturbing. Sympathy.

      He didn’t want her sympathy. Anything but that.

      He began to step away from her, to distance himself from what he saw in her eyes. She tightened her grip and smiled sweetly. “You know, Jonathon, it’s long past time we took a turn around the dance floor.”

      Her voice came at him as if from a great distance, sounding tinny in his ears, waking a favorite memory he’d tucked deep in the back of his mind. Another evening. Another one of Mrs. Singletary’s charity balls.

      Fanny had stood at the edge of a similar dance floor, on the very night of her return from Chicago. Gossip had erupted the moment she’d stepped into the room. Speculation about her reasons for leaving town had been voiced in barely concealed whispers.

      She’d held firm under the censure, alone, her posture unmoving, chin lifted in defiance, as courageous as a warrior. She’d been magnificent. Beautiful. Yet Jonathon had seen past the false bravado. He’d seen the nerves and vulnerability living beneath the calm facade.

      He’d asked her to dance.

      Later, when the waltz had come to an end, she’d thanked him for rescuing her from an uncomfortable moment.

      Now she was rescuing him.

      It seemed somehow fitting.

      “I’d like nothing more than to dance with you, Fanny.”

      Taking charge of the moment, he directed her onto the floor and then pulled her into his arms.